Play & Dates
by RochelleRene
Summary: Sam offends House by commenting on his and Cuddy's lack of common interests. But what does Sam really know?


_This was started ages ago when oc7ober asked me to do a fic about House and Cuddy not sharing any hobbies, like that early S7 ep. It's been sitting on my computer and I finally felt inspired to finish it. Hope you like it._

**[H] [H] [H]**

"Wait. You mean to tell me," Wilson said carefully, "that someone is suing the hospital and it isn't because of something House did?" He smirked and avoided eye contact with his friend across the table, instead focusing on Cuddy.

"It does happen occasionally," Cuddy replied.

"It's Laslow," House interjected. Cuddy promptly smacked him on the chest.

"I told you that in confidence.," she scolded.

"And I'm telling Wilson in confidence," he answered, rubbing his chest in mock pain.

"And Sam. And the rest of this cafeteria," Cuddy retorted.

"Sam doesn't even know who Laslow is," House defended, looking to Sam for backup. Sam shrugged and shook her head as she sipped her drink. "See?"

"Well, I mean, now I know he's the doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro who's being sued for…" Sam hinted, raising her eyebrows at Cuddy.

"Masectomy on the wrong breast," House reported.

Cuddy smacked him again. "House!"

He grinned at her. "Oh, I forgot. We pinky swore on that one."

"Really?" Sam asked, incredulous. "How does that happen?"

Cuddy sighed heavily. "It doesn't. I mean… it's more than rare. But it has happened. The scans were flipped when they were posted in surgery. We ask patients to write on their bodies for any amputation and she didn't, but that's no excuse. It's pretty cut-and-dried. The real case is whether we can fight for recklessness instead of gross negligence."

"What's the argument?" Wilson asked.

"It's actually House who helped me find it," Cuddy said, turning to look at the brilliant man who was currently munching a fry while scrutinizing something in the distance and paying little attention to the table's conversation. "The patient's name. Ava Staats."

House reached out and smacked Cuddy lightly. "I thought that was in confidence," he said out of the side of his mouth, before slurping his drink.

Cuddy glared at him. "I assumed you'd want the part about you being clever included."

"You're right. Carry on."

"So," Cuddy continued, "House pointed out that both names are palindromes and when they posted the scans, even in reverse it wasn't readily obvious they were backward because in all caps, the name still looked like a name."

"If the surgeon is in preschool and makes his esses the wrong way," House pointed out.

Cuddy sighed heavily at the information she knew would be thrown at her in the meeting. "It's not much, but it's the best we got. But I'm nervous as hell about this meeting because it's horrible what happened, and I'm embarrassed, but I have to try to fight for the hospital as best I can."

"I'd have thought you'd be used to these things by now," Wilson commented, nodding his head toward House.

"I don't haphazardly lop off body parts," House pointed out defensively.

"No, you just poke around in brain stems and have people drink urine."

"Yeah, just for kicks. It has nothing to do with _curing them_," House sniped.

"The difference is," Cuddy interjected, "For House, I have the whole speech memorized and can do it without even prepping. For other cases, there are nuances I have to keep in mind."

"What's the House speech?" Sam asked. Cuddy rolled her eyes to dismiss the question.

"No, no. What's the House speech?" Wilson pressed. "Let's hear it."

Cuddy looked at House. House smirked at her. "Go ahead. I've heard it in enough courtrooms. We could do it chorally if you prefer."

Cuddy sat up straighter in her chair and smoothed the lapels on her jacket, putting on a serious face. "Dr. House's department specializes in rare medical cases that are difficult to diagnose and have stymied other doctors, from general practitioners to specialists."

House mouthed "from general practitioners to specialists" along with her.

"The fact of the matter is, patients such as the plaintiff seek him out because of his ability to think outside of the box in order to find answers to questions that no one else can answer. It is not just, therefore, to then turn around and penalize Dr. House for doing just that. There is no protocol for his type of work, and there is no match for his level of results." She smiled with satisfaction and looked over at House.

He made a sad face. "You left out the part about me pioneering a whole field of medicine."

"I only use that one selectively. Mainly when you use drugs in unprescribed ways."

Wilson snorted. "He uses them in prescribed ways sometimes?"

"I'd watch it, since you were my prescriber," House replied, reaching a hand out to touch Cuddy as she stood up.

"I gotta go," she told the table. She looked at House."Wish me luck."

"You don't need it, scary super-bitch administrator."

Cuddy furrowed her brow. "Thank you?" He smirked at her and she turned and left.

House returned his attention to his reuban, but felt Sam's eyes on him. He looked up at her after taking an enormous, sloppy bite that made her sneer a little. With a mouthful of food he said to her with garbled words, "Take a picture."

"I'll pass."

House shrugged. "Okay," he said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. "Then just freely ogle at me while sitting next to your boy toy."

"I'm not staring at you with _desire_, House. Quite the opposite. I'm wondering what in the world Lisa sees in you."

House met her eyes with a level stare. "Funny, I can relate." He shifted his eyes from Sam to Wilson.

Wilson tensed up, sensing the brewing altercation and hoping one of them would just back down, but knowing them both better than that.

House went on the offensive. "You know the secret to lasting love, Sam? Care to share so I don't inadvertently sabotage my totally hot and intense relationship with a woman I've known 27 years and hold is my utmost respect? Cuz maybe we're missing something there." He didn't smile, smirk, or even frown. He stared at her with the coolest of expressions. She had tread on treacherous territory, going after his relationship with Cuddy.

"I'm not saying you guys don't work," Sam explained. "You seem to work great. And it's just fascinating because you don't have anything in common."

"Except being doctors who went to the same med school and work in the same hospital…" Wilson jumped in, trying to smooth things over.

Sam smirked now. "Except that."

There was a silence so long that Wilson felt like he was waiting for an atomic bomb to drop. "What are you getting at, Sam?" he asked finally.

"Nothing! I just think it's interesting that two people that don't share any hobbies can work as well as they do in a relationship," she reported."It's a compliment really."

"What do you know about our hobbies?" House asked defensively.

"Well, one of hers appears to be grooming, for one," Sam sniped.

"Oh, right. That old saying about couples who shave together," House replied.

Sam grinned. "She likes the ballet. You like blues clubs. She likes yoga. You like poker. There's just not a lot of overlap. But the saying – 'Couples who play together, stay together' – is based on actual sociological research."

House considered what she was saying without showing it. "We play," he asserted.

"Well, come out to play with us," Sam challenged. "Let's do a double date."

Wilson put his face in his hands. The bomb had dropped. Sam elbowed him for being so dramatic. "What? We're all friends."

Wilson sat up and gestured between House and Sam. "That's what you call this?"

She smiled sweetly. "This is just a conversation between friends, Wilson." She looked at House, carefully holding her expression. "Right, pal?"

House narrowed his eyes at her. "Friday night… old buddy."

**[H] [H] [H]**

Cuddy pulled into the movie theater parking lot next to Wilson's car. She shifted into park, but left the motor running as she turned her head to House. "It'll be over before you know it." House grunted in response. "And at least the movie sounds interesting."

House turned to her with a look of disgust.

"It's art-y," she pointed out.

"It's a Polish film about childbirth!" he exclaimed.

"I don't think it's Polish. It's just set in Poland."

"Oh, well, that changes everything," House complained. "Who the hell sets a film in Poland when they don't have to?" he muttered.

"Look, House, this wasn't my idea. You're the one who got us into this somehow. I'm just trying to see the bright side." She turned and stared out the window at Wilson's car. "I don't even see how a double date with Wilson and Sam proves anything about us having common hobbies."

House shook his head, replaying the cafeteria exchange in his mind. "It doesn't. It's a ruse. She just wants to study us more. Figure out why we're together."

Cuddy turned back and looked at him again. "Why are we together?" He turned to her and she grinned. "Because we're both partial to electric guitars? Because we're gaga for Louis Vuittons?" She smirked at him.

House leaned over, his mouth near hers, and set his hand firmly on her shoe. Then he ran it slowly up her leg, pausing at her knee to run his fingers lightly over the back before continuing up the inside of her thigh under her skirt. "I think those things both play important roles in our relationship," he teased, capturing her top lip between his and tugging gently. Cuddy sighed quietly beneath his touch and sank back into the car seat. House began kissing her neck.

"We have to go meet them," Cuddy protested with very little sincerity.

House's hand came to rest on her hip and his thumb made little circles just under the hem of her shirt. He tipped her head back with his nose and kissed down her throat to the neckline, tracing it with his mouth.

"House," Cuddy whispered, and it was unclear if it was further protest or lust.

"We've found a common interest," House murmured, using both hands to tug Cuddy's skirt up her legs. He paused and looked at her. "Unless I'm mistaken and you aren't interested in the feelings that I want to make you feel." He looked at her seriously.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Goddammit. We have to be fast, okay? They're waiting for us." But she took his hands and moved them further up her skirt.

House smirked at her. "Have you ever heard of the concept of 'flow,' Cuddy?" he teased. He took her waist in his hands and tugged her across the car to straddle his lap. She looked down at him, her chest already heaving. "It's when you're engaged in a task that is so compelling and all-consuming, you lose all sense of time and just completely focus on the activity." He had hiked her skirt all the way up now and saw that she was wearing thigh-high stockings with a garter. "Hey, there, Victoria. Found your secret." He couldn't take his eyes off her thighs.

Cuddy grinned at him. "I figured there'd be some time for our other hobby, post-movie."

"There will," House murmured, sliding his hands up her thighs.

"In that case," she teased, and she took one of his hands and slid it into her panties, pushing his fingers roughly against her sex.

House closed his eyes for a moment, incredibly turned on by Cuddy's desire, evident in her actions and the slickness of her heat against his fingers. He breathed slowly and deliberately for a moment, then opened his eyes again to meet hers. When he opened them, however, he saw that Cuddy had opened her shirt in the meantime and her breasts were right in front of him, encased in silk and lace. He immediately reached up and slid her bra straps down her shoulders, messily bunching the fabric of her half-removed clothing. He slid her bra down and pressed his mouth to one of her nipples, causing Cuddy to lie back toward the dashboard and writhe. The sound of her and the feeling of her moving her hips to rock against his hand was insane, and House had to take his free hand to adjust himself.

Cuddy smiled her wide smile and sat back up. "Sorry," she said with fake pout. "You uncomfortable?" She reached down and began opening his jeans, making his arousal startlingly evident. "I told you we'd have fun," she whispered against his ear. "We always find a way to have fun." House grinned at this truth, then slid his fingers inside her slowly, making Cuddy gasp.

"We know how to play together," he agreed in a low voice.

Cuddy laughed and leaned back again. House leaned forward, returning his lips to her breasts. One hand was between her thighs, his fingers moving inside of her, his thumb stroking her clit. His tongue was circling one nipple and his free hand was fingering her other. Cuddy was crazy, whining and humping air. Then House paused all his efforts, causing her to moan a complaint.

"Tell me what you like most," he murmured, but it almost turned into a groan at the end because he was so hot for her. She looked at him with irritation and confusion until he lowered his face to her breast again, taking her in his mouth and moving his tongue the way he knew she liked. Cuddy sighed with relief. "This?" he muttered against her skin. The he raised his face to look at her again and rolled her other nipple between his fingers, gently pinching, then not-so-gently pinching as his palm lifted her breast, feeling the weight of it. "This?" he asked again. Cuddy puffed her breath at the ceiling of the car. Then he slid that hand to the side, resting it against her ribs. The he pumped his fingers in and out of her sex, occasionally sliding them out to rub against her clit. "Or this?" he asked as innocently as he could, raising his eyebrows at her in mock curiosity.

He paused again, waiting for his answer, and Cuddy thought she might pass out. "I want all of it," she stated in a firm-but-shaky voice.

House clicked his tongue. "Greedy," he commented. Cuddy reached down and grabbed his hand in one of hers, then reached into his boxers and wrapped the fingers of her other hand around his cock.

"I can be stingy too, House," she cautioned. She moved her hand around his sex. "You wanna have it all? Give it all to me." House smiled at her demand and pushed her back roughly, resuming his assault on her body.

"It's a good thing we have so much in common," he told her before his mouth was filled with her breast again. He did give it all to her and it didn't take long after the teasing. When Cuddy came moments later, she slid her hand across the wet window and screamed her satisfaction. He felt her shudder and shake in his arms, calling his name.

As she calmed herself on his lap, he couldn't help continuing to rub against her, his straining erection driving his actions even though he knew they needed to re-dress and get inside to join the other couple. But just as he began thinking about sports and cold showers, he felt Cuddy slide to the floor of the car between his legs. She tugged on his pants to lower them more and, without a word, took him into her mouth, moaning her own pleasure.

"Oh my… Fuck," he commented, always fighting the instinct to credit God with what Cuddy was giving him. "Scratch that," he moaned. "You're not greedy. You're very… very… generous." With the compliment Cuddy only focused her concentration more on what he liked and he felt her tongue touch every sensitive part of him.

Then Cuddy stopped and looked up at him. "Tell me what you like the most," she threw back. She sat back a little so he could see her slide her hand down her body and touch herself, rubbing her fingers against her sex , her eyelids half-closed with pleasure. "This?" she breathed, continuing to finger herself. House was mesmerized. Then she stopped and leaned forward, asking "Or this?" just before sliding her mouth over him again. She stayed there, moving for a few seconds, then let him go and looked up at him with inquisitiveness.

House both grinned and grimaced at her. "Both," he not so much said, as ordered. Cuddy shook her head in disapproval. "Greedy," she commented before returning her lips to his sex. He felt her arm shift and could see and feel that she was touching herself at the same time and he fought the urge to close his eyes. He needed to watch her. Her high-pitched sounds of pleasure answered each of his moans and he wanted so badly for her to get off at the same time. It was too hot to not take advantage of. "Tell me," he gasped, fighting off his primal urges while indulging them at the same time. He immediately groaned with the effort and felt her arm shift against his legs. Her cries grew closer as she continued to pleasure him and within a minute she managed to say "Now, House," against his sex before humming out the sounds of her release, which buzzed against his flesh as they exited her mouth. House came instantly, gripping the handle of the door and Cuddy's shoulder, saying barely comprehensible things about her body and her mouth and her everything. He saw stars, he heard ringing, and he felt Cuddy.

As quickly as it had all started, it was wrapping up. He lay against the seat, practically panting, while Cuddy slid all of her body parts back under fabric. He lifted his hips to allow her to slide his jeans back up and seal him away for the time being, patting his crotch affectionately before opening the car door and stepping out on wobbly legs.

"We gotta go," she told him. "We're already fifteen minutes past showtime."

House rolled his head toward her and stared with glazed eyes. "That wasn't the show?"

Cuddy put her hands on her hips. "Do I look Polish to you?"

"I thought we were role-playing."

**[H] [H] [H]**

House and Cuddy arrived in the movie theater twenty minutes late. They squinted into the darkness to spot Wilson and Sam, then House limped up the shallow steps, holding Cuddy's hand as she followed. He dropped into the seat next to Wilson and immediately grabbed a handful of popcorn.

"Sorry we're late," Cuddy whispered. Sam leaned forward and waved off her apology, absolving her. Cuddy sat back and tried to figure out what they had missed.

House stared at the screen, but leaned toward Wilson and whispered. "Wanna know why we're late?"

"No," Wilson grunted.

"Let's just say Cuddy's car has a lot of footspace."

Wilson blinked, glanced at him, then back at the movie while House continued to steal popcorn. "In the car? What are you, teenagers?"

"Teenagers don't know how to do what she did," House whispered back, loudly. Cuddy nudged him to shut up, but he continued, just slightly more softly. "Ask Sam, is sex considered a hobby?" House asked. "I looked it up and a hobby is 'an activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure.'

"It's not a hobby," Wilson muttered impatiently.

"It fits!" House protested. "I mean, sure, it's a biological function, but so is eating and yet all the annoying 'foodies' out there have claimed that as a hobby. I don't see why sex should be excluded."

Wilson continued staring straight ahead. "Sex does not qualify as a hobby, House."

"Says the man who doesn't like sex."

Now Wilson turned and looked at him is disbelief. "I like sex. I _love_ sex."

"Not like I love sex."

"How do you know?"

"Cuz you're not having sex with Cuddy." House smirked.

Wilson sputtered a little. "You're not having sex with Sam," he countered. He leaned close to say it very quietly, so as not to be overheard.

House glanced at Sam and sneered. "Good point. I amend my earlier claim. Sex _with Cuddy_ qualifies as a hobby."

Wilson sighed. "Which means that for you two to share that hobby, you'd be having sex with Cuddy, and Cuddy would be having sex with herself."

House raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I rest my case."

Wilson stared at him, trying to remain expressionless. "You have to stop telling me about things my good friend does in bed. It's confusing."

"Don't be alarmed, Jimmy," House said, patting his arm. "It's just a hobby."

"Not a hobby!" Wilson hissed, turning back to the screen.

"And sitting through boring art films is?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I like movies."

"Not these movies."

"I am open to all sorts of movies."

"I'm open to all sorts of sex," House pointed out. He turned and smirked at Wilson. "In the car, for instance. She wanted me to get her off with my hand." He grabbed a big handful of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth. Wilson sighed and handed him the whole bucket, which House promptly took, grinning at the screen. "Thanks," he teased. He ate another bite and made a point of licking one of his fingers. "Yum."

To House's delight, Wilson sank lower into his seat.

**[H] [H] [H]**

On Saturday night, House and Cuddy were eating a late dinner after Rachel was in bed when there was a knock on the door. House was starving, so he continued chomping on a chicken wing as he walked to answer it. A dejected Wilson was leaning on the porch.

House raised his eyebrows, still chewing, and turned to walk back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Wilson to follow.

"Who was that?" Cuddy asked, stabbing her fork into her salad.

"The man with the perfect relationship," House commented as Wilson followed him into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked, standing up with concern. House plopped back into his chair and took a swig of his beer.

"I don't even know," Wilson sighed. "We got in a debate about where to go for dinner, even though I was agreeing to go wherever she wanted."

"But not as enthusiastically as she wanted you to agree," House guessed. Wilson walked to the table and sat down, reaching for chicken wing. House smacked his hand.

"House!" Cuddy chided. "Your friend is sad and hungry."

"So am I!" House protested, but he shoved the plate toward Wilson. Cuddy started puttering in the kitchen, heating up some other food.

"I don't get it," Wilson mused. "It's like even when we agree, there is something inherently incompatible about us. It always gets tense eventually."

"Maybe you're just still finding your footing," Cuddy comforted, putting an open beer in front of Wilson.

"Or maybe she's a psychotic demon bitch," House offered, flipping through a magazine while he ate.

"That's helpful," Wilson replied.

House looked up and set his food down. "Wilson, the woman lives to see how unhappy she can make you. She says 'Jump,' you ask, "How high?' and she criticizes the tone of your voice. You can do everything she wants you to do, eat at all the restaurants she wants to eat at, watch all the shitty-ass movies she wants to talk about at work the next day to feel smart and cultured. You'll still lose because you don't like to do those things and she feels it. And even though she thinks she wants you to pretend, she doesn't because it's annoying." He picked up his beer and took a sip. "Trust me on that last part."

"She's not a demon bitch," Wilson said sadly.

"Just psychotic?" House inquired.

"House, shut up," Cuddy ordered. "Wilson, it's gonna be fine. You just need a little space to see how stupid this fight was. You'll resolve it tomorrow, and get back to normal." She patted his shoulder affectionately.

Wilson nodded pathetically. "Can my 'space' be here for the night?" he asked with embarrassment.

"Maybe you should call and ask her if that's allowed," House mused.

Cuddy leaned across the table toward him. "What part of 'Shut up' was unclear to you?"

House narrowed his eyes at her, but smirked. "Oh, right. _You're_ the demon bitch. I get so confused."

"And you haven't _seen_ psychotic yet," she warned.

Wilson looked back and forth between them during the exchange, then folded his hands in his lap. "Well, this will be fun."

**[H] [H] [H]**

Wilson had woken up in the wee hours of the morning on Sunday. Sam had texted him and they had made up somewhat, agreeing to meet for breakfast. He was anxious about it and couldn't get back to sleep, so he stumbled into Cuddy's kitchen and quietly made coffee through bleary eyes. He was sitting at Cuddy's dining room table reading yesterday's newspaper in dim light when he heard a door open. Cuddy walked past the doorway without looking in, wearing black yoga pants and a tank top, her hair tied up in a ponytail. A moment later another door opened and Rachel scampered by after her mother. Wilson unintentionally eavesdropped on them talking in the living room.

"Can I do yoga with you?" Rachel asked.

"Shhh,Wilson's sleeping" Cuddy cautioned. "Yeah," she added in a loud whisper. "But go nudge House for me." Wilson saw Rachel bolt back down the hall and heard her open the door. He could hear the low rumble of House's voice in an exchange with Rachel's lilting solicitation. A minute later Rachel passed again with a stooped and limping House clomping along behind her, yawning and rubbing an eye, disappearing into the room. A moment later Wilson heard the piano. House was playing something slow and soft. Cuddy, her back to the doorway, began a slow, methodical yoga routine, with Rachel imitating her.

Wilson watched for a few minutes while Rachel alternated between following her mother and going over to watch House. She spotted Wilson, but just smiled and waved, then put a finger to her lips to caution him. Apparently silence was sacred this time of day, which was lucky for Wilson.

House moved as seamlessly from song to song as Cuddy did from pose to pose. Wilson knew he was infringing on something rather intimate, but the raw state of his heart needed this. He felt like he was looking at something important; something he needed to learn. After twenty minutes or so, Cuddy was stretched out on the floor and House stopped playing. Wilson stood quietly and began backing away toward the kitchen door when he heard House get up, but not before seeing the man stoop down and kiss Cuddy lightly. "Going back to bed," he grumbled. Cuddy nodded wordlessly with her eyes closed.

Then Rachel asked in a not-so-whispery whisper, "Can I come back to bed with you?"

House walked past the dining room doorway with Rachel trailing behind him. "For _sleep_," House emphasized. "You shout, you're out."

"That rhymes," Wilson heard Rachel exclaim before the door clicked shut behind them. He stood there, considering the morning ritual he had just observed. He wondered about him and Sam, hopefully reconciling fully in a few hours. He wondered what it really meant to "play together."

He was lost in thought, getting more coffee, when Cuddy came into the kitchen. "You're up early," she observed. She went to get herself a tall glass of water. "I hope the piano didn't wake you," she said, turning to him in alarm. Wilson shook his head. They were silent a moment, then Cuddy asked, "You okay?"

Wilson didn't answer, but instead asked, "Does House get up and play piano every morning for you?"

Cuddy smiled, slightly bashful. "Yeah."

"How did that start?"

Cuddy bit her lip a moment. "He was already up one day. His leg was hurting. So I just started my routine and he started playing. I told him I liked it, and he told me to wake him up the next day and he'd play again. And then it just continued like that."

Wilson nodded.

"I let him sleep if he was at work really late or something," she added, sounding defensive suddenly. "But he doesn't like when I do that."

"It's the piano and you," Wilson observed. Cuddy raised her eyebrows in question. "Not often that someone gets to combine two of their favorite hobbies."


End file.
